


The Intermediary Introduction

by CourageousGryffindor



Series: The Unauthorized Files of Ella Volleax [1]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Asexual Klaus, Bisexual Violet, Depression, F/M, Family Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, all grown up, sexual harrasement
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-06 19:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15202352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourageousGryffindor/pseuds/CourageousGryffindor
Summary: If you have read the end of The End, then you already know that the end of The End is not actually the end of the story.It is, in fact, only the end of one individual's research into the terrible and unfortunate events that plagued the middle of the Baudelaire orphans' story.This is the prologue to the next chapter of their story.Contained within these virtual pages are all manner of wicked and noble things including a terrible storm, an edgy haircut, a midnight ice cream run, and a mysterious coin.These are the ten years between the end of one series of unfortunate events and the beginning of another.





	1. 1 year and 7 months after the fire...

**Author's Note:**

> My research into the connecting years between the end of The End and the beginning of this tale is incomplete. I have included those moments which I have been able to uncover, whether by word of beak or secret message hidden inside a vessel for disaccharides, as they may be the key to understanding the rest of the Baudelaires' story.
> 
> I have constructed, as best I can, a timeline of these events based on the pivotal moment of the Baudelaires' story: the Baudelaire fire.
> 
> Not all of the moments contained below are villainous, but neither are all of these moments noble. For this reason I advice you to find something else to read that is made up of only the happiest of moments. This is for your own safety as some may find the more unfortunate events that follow to be nothing but a sad reminder of their own unfortunate experiences.
> 
> I also advise all my readers: DO NOT READ THE END NOTES! There are no secret codes, hidden messages, or information about timely updates to be found in the END NOTES, only the customary begging for kudos and comments. Please, save yourself such tediousness and avoid reading the END NOTES.
> 
> \- E.V.

If you have ever watched the sky growing darker with an approaching storm then you know how a natural phenomenon can seem like a much more supernatural occurrence. And if you have ever had the misfortune of reading the very first chapter of A Series of Unfortunate Events then you will know how someone's life can change in an instant. 

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire had spent a year away from all the terrible and awful things in the world. They had lived on their own private island, raising the orphaned child their friend Kit Snicket had left behind. With plenty of room for inventing, researching, and cooking, the three Baudelaires had been happy with young Beatrice. At least, as happy as they could considering all of the misfortune and woe that still plagued their memories. 

But they could not stay hidden away from the world forever. 

The Baudelaires and Beatrice had been at sea for several weeks when dark storm clouds began to form on the horizon. The phrase "at sea" means that the family of orphans were sailing a vessel -- a vessel which coincidently shared the same name as both their adopted daughter and their late mother -- towards the mainland after having left their secluded island during the annual flooding of the coastal shelf which surrounded it. The phrase "the dark storm clouds began to form on the horizon" means that the brief period of happiness and safety that the Baudelaires had enjoyed with Beatrice was about to come to a sudden and tragic end.

"Um, Violet?" said Klaus, looking up from his commonplace notebook. He had been rereading the inventory -- a word which means "a list of supplies that the Baudelaires had packed on the ship" -- he had recorded and making adjustments based on which supplies Sunny had pulled out to be used for dinner when he sensed something wrong.

It is an odd thing, sensing that something is wrong. You have no immediate reason to be afraid and yet you can't help but feel that things are about to get very bad. Almost everyone has this ability to sense when something isn't quite right though very few people listen to it. Klaus was one of those people who always listened to this particular feeling, even when it turned out that the only thing wrong was all the very wrong things of his past.

Violet was stretched out on bow of the ship, arm flung across her eyes to keep the last rays of sunlight from disturbing her nap. The eldest Baudelaire had stayed up the previous night in order to make repairs to the ship's pulley systems and so had earned herself a much needed rest before dinner. "What's wrong?" grumbled Violet, moving her arm away from her face to show that she was awake but still refusing to open her eyes. The afternoon was calm and so there was no reason for her to think that there was any sort of emergency.

"We have a bit of an emergency." Klaus said as he pointed towards the horizon.

By this point, Sunny and Beatrice were also looking out towards the horizon. Sunny, who had been busy preparing an elegant salad using some of the canned foods from the ship's inventory, instinctively went over to stand by Beatrice, who had been performing a song of her own composition using a wooden spoon and a bowl. 

Beatrice was still an infant and so she still mostly spoke in unintelligible shrieks but what she said next was easy for all aboard to understand. 

"Uh-oh."

Violet opened her eyes and looked out over the tumultuous water. Fat, angry clouds were racing across the horizon towards them and their tiny boat. 

There is no point in describing to you the absolute terror that flooded through the eldest Baudelaire as she looked out at the approaching storm clouds. There is no point because it is the same terror that Mr. Snicket has described in his accounts of the Baudelaires' earlier misfortunes. It would be useless to describe how Violet's heart dropped into her stomach as the wind began to whip around her. It would be futile to note how, like the colors of a quickly-falling twilight, Violet's terror was the of the sort that throws reality into a pin-point clarity. It is redundant to discuss this terror because it is the same terror which Violet Baudelaire had unfortunately experienced many times in her life and so when it reared its ugly head, a phrase which here means "came upon Violet in much the same way that the storm was coming upon their tiny vessel," she did not panic or give up but immediately jumped into action.

"Klaus," Violet called over the groaning of the wind and the wood, "untie those lines and take control of the jib!" 

"Sunny, I need you and Beatrice to empty out one of those baskets," Violet gestured towards the baskets that stored their collection of canned and premade food, "when you're done put this in there." She handed Sunny a small package that they had been kept in a compartment on the side of the hull. Inside the carefully wrapped package was a collection of the Baudelaire's most important belonging including a picture of their small family, the ring that had belonged to their mother, and a letter to Beatrice that they had written while on the island shortly after she had been born and were intending to give to her when she was older.

As her siblings scrambled to follow her orders, Violet tied her hair back with a ribbon and grabbed hold of the tiller and the mainsheet. She pulled the tiller towards her, leading the ship into irons, a word which means "pointed the bow of the ship into the wind in order to avoid capsizing." It was not an easy task as the storm clouds moved overhead and the wind whipped in every direction.

Violet felt a tug at her pant leg and glanced down. Beatrice was at her feet, pointing at the basket that she had helped Sunny to empty. "Ageeba?"

"What now, Violet?" Sunny translated, having to practically yell to be heard over the wind.

Instead of directly answering her sister, Violet instead looked down at Beatrice whose tiny face gazed up at her in fear. "Put Beatrice in the basket."

Sunny didn't quite understand what Violet had in mind but went to pick up the youngest Baudelaire. Beatrice, who was still too young to fully understand everything that was happening, continued to look up at Violet, waiting for her to tell her how she could help. It was only when Sunny began to try and move her that Beatrice began to cry out and fight against the tiny arms that wrapped around her. 

"No! No!" Beatrice shrieked and struggling against Sunny. Violet jumped in to help, letting the wind take control of the tiller and mainsail. 

"Beatrice. Beatrice, please." Violet took the screaming baby from her sister's arms and held her close, stroking her hair and rocking her as they sat together at the bottom of the boat. "Shhh…shhh…"

Beatrice began to quite though silent tears still spilled onto Violet's shoulder. "Shh…Beatrice. It's alright. You're okay, love, you're okay." Violet's soothing voice created a small space in which both girls could pretend, despite the wind and a few preliminary drops of rain, that everything actually was okay and that this was nothing more than another storm on the island. 

Slowly, Beatrice pulled away in order to look into Violet's face. "Elue." 

"I know you want to help, but I need you safe. We need you safe." Silent tears ran down Violet's face as she pressed her forehead to Beatrice. "We can't lose you. Not after everything and everyone we have lost. You are our family and we will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. You understand, my love, whatever it takes." Violet felt a tiny hand wrap itself in her hair as she spoke. "You are our whole world, Beatrice. We love you. We love you." 

The sky was torn apart by a flash of lightning and boom of thunder, snapping the attention of the two girls back to the task at hand, a phrase which means "back to the reality of being thrown about at sea like a mouse in the clutches of a cat."

Violet gently placed Beatrice in the basket, kissed her head, and latched both basket and baby to the ship's hull. Retaking her place at the helm, the eldest Baudelaire looked out towards her siblings and the grim horizon and smiled. "We've gotten through everything else and we can get through this. It's nothing we haven't seen before."

But the eldest Baudelaire could not have been more wrong.

When the full force of the storm finally hit, it was, in fact, much worse than any storm the Baudelaires had encountered before. The waves were much larger than those of the storm which had stranded them on The Island. The wind was sharper and more twisted than the winds of Hurricane Herman. Even the lightning was brighter, the thunder louder, and the rain more biting than anything they had yet experienced. 

And so it should bring you no surprise, my poor readers, to know that as the Baudelaires clung desperately to their stations, their ship, and each other, the Beatrice was ripped apart by the storm.

The first thing to go was the mast. Klaus and Sunny had long since torn down the sails, stuffing them below deck. Wave after relentless wave crashed over their heads, pulling at the seams where the tall piece of lumber connected to the hull of the boat. 

Sunny, who had been at its base, was the first to notice as the mast began to creak and pull away from its foundation. She had enough time to shriek as the top heavy mast finally split and tumbled towards her and Beatrice. 

Violet, who had followed Sunny's terrified gaze up to the head of the mast as it began to fall, didn't think as she flung herself between the falling mast and her family. Bracing herself against the soaking wood of the hull, she cried out as the mast crashed into her back, the pulley system barely missing her head but inches. 

Klaus called out his sisters' names but his cry was lost in the wind and even if it hadn't been, Violet wouldn't have been able to hear over the ringing in her ears. The world was off-kilter and between the waves and the pain, Violet couldn't distinguish up from down. Somewhere above her, or maybe it was below her, the faces of her sister and adopted daughter swam before her. Or was it Klaus and her sister? And was the wind whispering her name? No that wasn't right because this wasn't a whispering wind, this was a howling, roaring wind. And the last time she checked, the wind didn't sound like her father. No, not her father; her brother. Klaus. Klaus and Sunny. Klaus and Sunny and "Beatrice…"

"She's alright. Everyone is alright. Violet can you hear me? Can you move?" Klaus's frantic cries began to cut through the haze of Violet's mind as she began to remember where they were and what had happened. 

"I'm fine. Winded, but fine." Violet pulled herself up with help from her brother. When had she gotten on her back? And where were…Her thoughts trailed off, replaced by a sense of relief as she looked over to see Sunny curled up near the basket that still contained the tiny lump that was Beatrice. The mast was nowhere to be found. 

Just as Violet managed to pull herself up, another set of waves came crashing down, nearly capsizing the boat. 

"We're going to capsize!" Klaus cried as soon as they were granted a brief respite.

"I know!" Violet cried back. Her inventive mind raced, slowed only by the throbbing pain that was still spreading from her back. "We need to balance the boat! Put a larger weight below us!" 

The younger Baudelaires watched as their sister shut her eyes in concentration. The seconds stretched on until finally her eyes popped back open. 

"The sails," she said calmly but loudly. "Tie the sails to the centerboard and feed the cloth down below the keel. The weight of the wet cloth should weight us down enough to keep us afloat."

There has been nothing I have found amongst the wreck of the Beatrice that has led me to believe that Violet's invention wouldn't have worked perfectly if the rest of the ship hadn't started to break apart just as the three Baudelaires finished tying off the makeshift keel. A keel, of course, is the part of a ship located completely underwater and is meant to keep a ship balanced and upright. But it is impossible for a keel to do its job effectively if the stern of the ship becomes ripped from the hull and the sides fall away, leaving little more than a quickly dissolving raft between the ship's passengers and the raging sea.

And so it was with the Baudelaires as the Beatrice began to quickly fall apart beneath them. Once the tiller had been torn away it did not take much for the rest of the ship's structures to crumple. There was not enough time for Violet to invent anything or for Klaus to recall any information from a collection of memoirs he'd read several years prior. But there was just enough time for Sunny to bite through the lines that attached Beatrice and her basket to the sinking vessel. And there was enough time for Klaus to stroke her hair and hold her hand. And there was enough time for Violet to kiss her before the three Baudelaires were swept away into the Great Unknown.

~*~*~*~*~

The body has many ways of protecting itself from harm. The blood clots in order to heal an open wound. The lungs will fight to take in breathe even when we loose consciousness. And the brain will shut down all but the most essential survival functions when the pain is too great to bare. If you have ever have the misfortunate of being even a fraction as unlucky as the Baudelaires then you have probably experienced this last phenomenon known as shock. 

There are times, after a serious injury or the loss of a loved one, when our bodies decide that it can no longer take the pain and so it begins to shut down. Our heart still beats and our lungs still breathe but the only thing one can feel is a deep, cold numbness. For better or worse, it allows us to survive, to keep going, to preserver.

Even if, like the Baudelaires, that is the last thing you want to do.

The storm that had torn about the Baudelaires' stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The twilight of dawn spread across the sky and sea. Alone in this sea of cloudy gray, floated three children, barely clinging to a single wooden board. 

The three youngsters drifted in and out of consciousness, unaware of anything but the sharp splinters of wood that dug into their hands and faces and the painful chill of the water that surrounded them. It could've been several hours or days or even months since the storm had passed but they didn't care. They were tired and dehydrated and numb. 

Well, mostly numb.

While Sunny and Klaus held each other, their eyes downcast and blank, Violet continued to scan the horizon. She searched for any sign of the wreck, of the basket. Any sign that Beatrice was still out there.

Because of this, it was Violet who first noticed the mysterious vessel in the distance and watched as it came closer and pulled up along side their makeshift raft. 

She didn't care if they were noble or villainous, only that a ship meant heat and water and a more effective way to continue searching.

As it happens, even the most unlucky people can experience moments of luck. Those aboard the mysterious vessel were more than just noble volunteers, they were friends.

As the Baudelaires were pulled up and onto the ship, those aboard couldn't help by notice the change that had come over the three children. It is not unusual for one to act contrary to ones' self when in a state of shock. The shock that held the Baudelaires was caused by more than just the terror of a passing storm or the pain of being tossed about at sea and so the change that had come over them was far greater as well. Sunny Baudelaire, who under normal circumstances would have greeted their rescuers with love and enthusiasm, tried to bite Duncan's hand as he went to help her aboard. Klaus, who normally would have hugged Isadora, instead glanced sadly at her worried face and slid to the deck in a silent heap. And Violet, who would have run into Quigley's arms in any other circumstance, instead ran to the bow of the ship and looked out over the gray horizon.

"We have to go back!" Violet cried.

"Violet…" Quigley's voice was soft behind her but she ignored him. 

"We have to get back out there! You have to help us! Please!" The expression on her face was one of a frenzied desperation as she looked out over the sea that had so recently spit them out. "There's still time to go back. We have to hurry. Please, there's still time!"

"Violet." His voice was a little louder this time and closer. Quigley gently placed a hand on Violet's shoulder.

Shrugging the hand off, Violet continued to stare off into the direction from which they had come.

"Violet….please," Quigley tried again, "there's nothing we can do."

"Don't say that."

"We already came through the wreckage."

"Don't say that!"

"There was no one else there."

"No. She must have drifted away. She's still out there…"

"We searched everywhere."

"No."

"You three were the only survivors." 

"NO!" Violet's cry seemed to rip the world in two. She screamed, sinking to her knees, hands still clutching to the railing. The world mocked her with its calmness. The storm at sea had moved on but the storm inside her seemed as though it would never end. 

For a long time Violet knelt there, her head resting against the cold metal of the railing and strangled sobs coming in short, shallow breathes. The triplets watched as the friends they thought they had lost forever were overcome with pain. As you may know, though I hope you do not, there are times when the pain of loss is so great that there is nothing that will ease it and the only thing that can be done is to feel what demands to be felt. And so it was with the Baudelaires as their friends went below deck, giving them their space to grieve. 

But like all storms, this too shall pass. 

As dawn wore into afternoon, Violet's sobs began to stop, her breathing becoming more even. Eventually, Klaus wandered over to where Violet was slumped against the railing, watching the waves crash against the side of the boat but not seeing anything aside from the swirls of gray and blue. Sunny too, managed to crawl over to her siblings, curling up in Klaus' lap, her tears all dried up. 

Together the three Baudelaire orphans sat, huddled against the cold and the pain and the crashing waves of grief. 

They had lost Beatrice and, as they traveled towards shore, they knew that a part of them would always be lost at sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my wonderful readers, please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please remember to leave Kudos and Comments!!!
> 
> ~*~*~*~*~
> 
> Now that I have convinced any villainous people who may be reading my work that the end notes are not worth their time, I can safely continue without fear that my enemies will intercept this message:
> 
> I am in grave danger.
> 
> For some time now it has been my sole purpose to research the lives of the three Baudelaire orphans. I have created this online persona in the hopes of someday finding a place safe enough to record my research. 
> 
> At the time of this writing, the above collection of events is not yet complete. This is because my enemies are close at hand and such imminent danger has limited the time I have to write. But it of the utmost importance that I continue to post as frequently as possible regardless of the cost. 
> 
> I must trust you, my associates and noble readers, to continue to monitor this website for updates in this hodge-podge collection of events until such a time that I am safe long enough to complete my work in peace.
> 
> \- E.V.


	2. 2 years and 8 months after the fire…

"I think if you're having so much trouble with it, you might try rebuilding the gear mechanism from scratch?"

"Yeah, probably. Or maybe it just wasn't meant to be fixed at all."

Violet sat with her head on Quigley Quagmire's lap, staring up at the overwhelming expanse of blue sky. It seemed to both stretch on forever and also to smother her with its closeness. Her fingers twisted in the strands of grass sprouting around them while his fingers busied themselves in the strands of her hair.

"I'd like to see that: something that Violet Baudelaire can't fix."

Violet shrugged. "I'm not saying I won't build a new one, I'm just saying when you smash something with a wrench it tends to be extremely difficult to fix, Q."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were blaming me for breaking the entire lawnmower."

"No." Violet's eye drifted across Quigley's face. She smiled. "Just the starting mechanism."

Quigley smiled back. "I was only trying to help."

"Like how you broke the toaster to help? Or the typewriter? Or maybe the radio?"

"You can't prove any of that was me," said Quigley, "And besides, all of those conveniently timed mechanical breakdowns did help you start inventing again."

Violet went back to staring at the sky. "I hate it when you're right."

A comfortable silence spread between the two as a gentle breeze blew through them. Quigley's fingers continued to play in Violet's hair, separating strands and twisting them together.

It was Violet who eventually broke the quite. "I know I've said this a lot recently, but thank you. For everything." 

Quigley looked down and saw that Violet's eyes were glossed over which was never a good sign. Gently, he brushed her bangs from her face. 

"I love you."

She didn't say it back. She never said it back. For Violet, love was a precious commodity that she could no longer afford to loose. Not that she didn't love him back, she had shown how much she cared for Quigley countless times over the last year. But she never said it. Saying it would make it real and if it was real then it could hurt her.

"She would be a little over two."

"I know." Quigley's voice was soft and low. "But you still have Sunny and Klaus…and me."

Their eyes met for a moment. 

"I know." She didn't have to say it.

Silence fell once more over the couple as Quigley went back to twisting small braids in Violet's hair. Violet closed her eyes, attempting to block out the world. 

If you have ever experienced grief, then you have also experienced healing. It is a careful and quiet process that many people don’t even know is happening. That is because most people expect healing to leave them whole and complete, but that is not the case. Healing does not leave us whole. It takes away the rawness of loss. It seals up the wounds with scars and bruises and it allows us to continue to survive. The pain never truly goes away with healing. It changes us, becomes part of us. Healing makes us different and eventually different becomes okay.

"Hey Q?" Again it was Violet who broke the silence. 

Quigley hummed in acknowledgment.

"What are you doing to my hair?"

"Braiding flowers into it." 

Violet pulled herself free from Quigley's lap to look around at the surrounding lawn. Patches of small purple flowers sprouted up all around them. "You have got to be kidding me." Violet began to laugh. It began as a smile and spread to her eyes, shaking her shoulders and rocking her belly. She couldn't control it, instead letting each laugh roll through her as she tumbled backwards into Quigley's lap. Laughter, especially that rare kind of laughter which bursts through the whole body, is almost impossibly contagious and so Quigley too was reduced to a fit of giggles. 

Healing leaves you different and eventually different becomes okay.

Slowly, Violet began to regain her composure until finally she was able to sit back up and look at Quigley through eyes still brimming with tears. "You know," she began, admiring the way the violets flowed through her hair, "this is cheesy even for you."

Quigley shrugged, still smiling, and leaned down to kiss Violet's forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my wonderful readers, please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please remember to leave Kudos and Comments!!!
> 
> ~*~*~*~*~
> 
> Now that I may once more speak freely I must warn you that it has come to my attention that these ends notes are not as safe as I had first believed. For now, however, it is our only option.
> 
> As always, keep watch for my updates.
> 
> \- E.V.


	3. 3 years and 5 months after the fire…

It is impossible to say exactly how many times Violet Baudelaire visited Briny Beach during her lifetime.  She may have spent time there with her parents as a young child or had family picnics on the sand or even visited that gray shore with old school friends.  But it is impossible to know any of this for certain.  It is possible, however, to say with a measured degree of certainty, that Violet Baudelaire had visited Briny Beach at least three times in her life.  The first, of course, was that fateful day many years ago when she and her siblings first heard about the terrible fire that claimed the lives of their parents.  Violet's second visit was after her and her siblings' brief but unfortunate time aboard the _Queequeg_.  Her third visit, and the one this particular account is about, is the only one which has not yet to be recorded despite its significance to the eldest Baudelaire.

It is also the only visit she took alone.

Many concerned readers, damaged investigators, and interested volunteers have struggled to discover what brought Violet Baudelaire back to such a haunted -- a word which here means full of terrible memories -- place.  Like most decisions, Violet's decision to come to the same shore that had plagued her nightmares for over three years was not the result of one singular desire, but the culmination of many thoughts, feelings, and unanswered questions.

It is common for people to describe such a culmination as a vortex or even a whirlpool. But while the terrifying and tumultuous nature of a vortex or whirlpool may work to describe the overwhelming swirling of emotions, it does not quite capture its subtlety.  I have always found that being overwhelmed by emotions is more like being on swing where you're legs can't touch the ground.  Specifically, that moment when you stop pumping your legs and are ready to get off but the ground is too far away to slow yourself and you continue swinging and it seems for a moment that you may never stop.

It is with these many disturbing, perpetually swinging thoughts, feelings, and unanswered questions that Violet sat, looking out at the gray waves, in almost the exact spot she had stood all those years ago as she imagined an invention that would retrieve stones after they had been skipped. 

Violet didn't know how long she had been by herself on Briny Beach before Quigley found her.  She wasn't even sure how he had managed to figure out where she had gone.

"I brought you some cake." Quigley said cautiously, not wanting to intrude but also wanting Violet to know that she wasn't alone.  In Quigley's outstretched hand was a piece of cake with the bottom half of the number "18" written in purple icing in Isadora's flowing handwriting.  Violet didn't look at the cake but instead continued to stare off at the dark waves.

Quigley tried again, "Do you mind if I join you?"

Violet shook her head to indicate that she didn't mind and Quigley sat down beside her.  But still, Violet didn't look at him.

"Klaus figured that this is probably were you would have gone." Quigley said. "Either here or the site of the fire."

Violet continued to say nothing.

Caring about someone is a very difficult position in which to be.  On the one hand, you will find yourself drawn to helping that person, even if helping means following their lead and remaining quiet while staring into the sea.  On the other hand, you will also find yourself drawn to fixing whatever issues that person is facing, even if in order to fix something you must first break through a person's emotional barriers in order to find out exactly what is wrong.  And of course it is important to remember that problems of the heart, a phrase which means those issues that stem from emotional difficulties, are frustratingly impossible to ever fix completely.  It's hard to know when someone is silently asking for help and when the best kind of help is letting that person be alone and feel things for a little while. Sometimes the best thing to do is just to ask.

"I just wanted to see if there's anything that I could do…to help." Quigley offered. "I'm sorry if the party was a bit much.  We just wanted to make it special because 18 is kind of a big deal, especially with everything that we've been through."

Smiling despite herself, a phrase which here means that Quigley Quagmire somehow always managed to make her feel better even when everything was perpetually swinging inside her, Violet finally looked over at Quigley.  "It's not your fault.  I'm sorry I left so abruptly.  It really was a nice party." She paused for a moment. "It's just that there's a lot going on in my head right now and it was all just so…overwhelming."

Violet turned back to the waves and placed her chin on her knees before continuing. "After the fire I thought that turning 18 would solve all of our problems.  That I would gain control of my parents' fortune and magically have the life back that we had before they died.  But that's not how it works.  The world is so much more vast and so much more cruel and once you know that you can never really go back to how you were before." Violet paused to take a breathe. "And of course thinking about everything that's about to happen brings back memories of everything we've been through to get here.  It's not just another birthday that my parents won't be here for. It's everything we've been through to get to this point: the fire, Olaf, VFD, almost dying on a daily basis…Beatrice.  Hell, I'm pretty sure that we're still technically wanted to murder. And now that I'm 18 I can't protect my family from everything but I can do a better job of it.  But between all of that and now tomorrow we have to…and we've just finally started to settle-" Violet stopped abruptly and looked over at Quigley.

"Then don't leave."

"Q," Violet pleaded testily, "you know why I can't do that."

"Listen, I know that things aren't the best right now.  We live in an abandoned, rundown building and we scavenger for food and books and parts for your inventions."

Violet started to shake her head. "Q…"

"But at least we're together!  With the three of you there…its become a home.  And once the three of us come of age we can get a mansion.  With plenty of space for your inventing and I can focus more of my time to working as a volunteer!"

"Q!"

"We can fill it with all things we've ever wanted like a library and a giant kitchen for sunny and an inven-"

"No, Quigley!" Violet burst out, leaping to her feet in frustration.

Quigley jumped up beside her. "Why not? I thought you were tired of running.  Tired of hiding away from the world?!"

"I'm not running or hiding, I'm trying to protect what family I have left from being torn apart!"

"Really? Because to me it seems like you're just scared of being happy!"

"That's not fair!"

"Then what is it? You say that now you're 18 you can really protect your family.  But what are you protecting them from?"

Violet and Quigley stood inches apart, staring at each other with fists clenched and chests heaving.  Quigley was the first to look away but it was Violet who finally broke the silence, her voice soft and more than a little bit hurt.

"VFD." She said. "Both sides. The fire-starting side put us in this situation; it creates people like Olaf and worse-than Olaf.  But the fire-fighting side isn't much better.  They have let us down over and over and over again.  They use volunteers as tools and forget that they're people.  It doesn't matter what side, I can't be a part of it."

"Then don't." Quigley said softly. "You can still stay here and not be a volunteer."

Violet shook her head. "That's not how it works, Q. They won't stop trying to recruit us."  Her voice was once more filled with passion and frustration. "I can't lose my family because without them I don't even know who I am.  And now that I'm of age I can't keep pretending that there's nothing else I can do to help protect them.  In the face of an organization like VFD, an organization that will always be after us, always be judging and scrutinizing us, always be waiting to use us: what other choice do I have?"

The couple stood in silence once more, waiting for whatever came next to happen and both staring off at the sea.

"You can come with us." Violet finally said. "We could disappear together and it can be just like you said.  We'll live in a big mansion with a library and giant kitchen," she glanced over at Quigley, "and a joint inventing and cartography studio. We can travel and explore new places together."

"I know that VFD has done some terrible things, but its also done so many nobles things as well.  They saved me, taught me how to fight back and survive.  They helped me find my family again.  And even after everything I still believe that there's good in them.  Sure its not all good but nothing is.  Being a part of VFD's mission is how I can make this world a better and more noble place.  It's what I need to do."

"And I have to take care of my family."

Violet turned back towards the dark water and for a moment it seemed as though she might collapse.  Her eyes were glossed over and numb and her jaw quivered as she clenched it.  Violet doubled over and for a moment Quigley didn't know if she would start to cry or become sick.  Instead, she let out a scream. It was the same anguished sound as nearly two years ago on the day they had found the Baudelaires at sea.  But beyond the pain and loss there was something else:  rage.  The seagulls scattered towards the sea, like salt in a watercolor gray sky.  When she was done, Violet straightened back up, her eyes still dry.  She didn't look angry or upset, only tired and much older than her 18 years.

Cautiously, a word which means with much care and concern, Quigley placed a hand on the eldest Baudelaire's shoulder. "Our lives may be leading us down different paths, but at least for this moment we're still together.  So please, let me be there for you.  At least for tonight you don't have to be the strong one.  You don't have to be alone.  However I can help, I'm here for you, Violet."

"I know." Violet replied before going up on her tiptoes to kiss him. 

Quigley responded by leaning down and pulling Violet close.  It is a rare thing when two people can share the same thought and it is an even rarer thing when those same two people are able to communicate this shared thought without words.  But that is what Violet and Quigley did as they each pulled back and looked into each other's eyes.  Taking Quigley's hand, Violet led them away from Briny Beach and onto the trolley home.  They spent the entire trip holding and caressing one another, their fingers entwined, twirling and twisting around each other.

When they finally arrived back at their dilapidated and disheveled home, Violet briefly realized that Quigley must have some how sent word to the others that she had been found. She heard their melancholy voices from the other room.  The word melancholy refers to something which is both happy and sad at the same time and it is an excellent word to describe how the entire Baudelaire-Quagmire household felt on that last evening together.  But while she could tell that her siblings and her friends were melancholy, Violet did not know what they were discussing as she was far too focused on leading Quigley back to his room.

There was a lot of space in their makeshift house though not many doors.  In fact there were only four. The Baudelaires shared a room together off the main common room while Isadora and Duncan shared another, smaller room off the kitchen.  Quigley took the smallest and only single room as his many lonely travels had led to him having more solitary sleeping habits.  The present company excluded, of course. 

When you do something for the first time, you will often find that you are rarely graceful and almost always awkward.  Violet and Quigley were both these things as she continued to lead him towards the bed and placed his hands where she wanted them.  But they were also soft and passionate.  They were graceless as Quigley lost his footing and landed on Violet, sending the couple into a sprawling heap on the bed.  And they were soft as Violet swept his hair out of his eyes and told that it was alright.  And they were awkward as they bumped elbows into foreheads attempting to remove shirts and pants.  And they remained passionate as Violet guided Quigley's aim towards the right spot. 

The young couple clung to each other as they moved together in an awkward, graceless passion, only pausing to check in with one another and only stopping once they were both completely spent. 

Violet curled into Quigley's side, her head tucked just below his chin.

"I love you, Violet." whispered Quigley as the two drifted off to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~

Quigley woke up the next morning and reached out for Violet.  His hand found only an empty bed and a small note placed neatly atop her pillow.  It read:

 

_I love you, too. - V.B._

~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile, in the heart of the city, a banker found a young woman sitting on the steps of the bank as he went in to open the doors.  Though no one had heard from the Baudelaires for several years, the woman had all the correct paperwork to prove that she was Violet Baudelaire and immediately withdrew the entire Baudelaire fortune.  The young woman, along with the young man and young child with whom she had appeared, were not seen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my wonderful readers, please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please remember to leave Kudos and Comments!!!
> 
> ~*~*~*~*~
> 
> I apologize for the delay in updates, dear readers. My situation is a fairly sticky one. But I will spare you the sappy details though I'm sure some of you would certainly find it intreeguing. 
> 
> Once more I am on the lam. And so, to better protect myself, my research, and any of you foolish enough to continue reading these accounts I will be communicating more secretively. I will not say here how I will send these messages, only that all worthy volunteers should take this time to brush up on their Veiled Figure Deciphers.
> 
> \- E.V.


	4. 3 years and 9 months after the fire…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please find below a message from Dr. Gustav Sebald

In the years to come, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire would spend much time looking back on their decision to leave the Quagmires. It wasn't that they regretted the decision that they had made together with their sister, Violet, only that, as is so often the case, they wondered what would have happened if they had stayed with their friends.  Would they have had the happy life in a giant mansion that they had dreamed of as children? Would their lives be subjected to an unending series of unfortunate events? Would they be able to remain together through all of the trials and hardships that would be sure to find them? Would any good times be worth such a terrible heartache?

It is impossible to ever know what could have happened.  Just like how Klaus would never know what would have happened had he warned Uncle Monty of Count Olaf's presence or how Sunny would never know what would have happened had her sister not brought the wasabi with them aboard the _Queequeg_ or how Violet would never know what would have happened had she not heard a certain concierge **bell ring** , **we** will never know what could have happened if the Baudelaires **had** not boarded a train, bringing with them only the very **best** books from their expansive collection, and, not daring to even **speak** to any other living soul aboard the train besides themselves, **secretly** moved to a city that Klaus had discovered during some **research**.  It was on the far side of the Hinterlands where **the** name Baudelaire was not synonymous with misfortune and woe. 

I **note** that we do know that the decision the Baudelaires made **to** disappear into the world was done so that they could **better** protect the little family that they had left.  You must **understand** that it was a group decision, rather than one that **any** single Baudelaire had made by themselves.  Heading into an uncertain **future,** the Baudelaires at least knew that they would remain together.  **Communication** , they knew, was key.  As they traveled along, a **bell rang** in the distance.

We also know what happened to the three Baudelaires when they arrived in the new city across the Hinterlands.  Violet, now in possession of the entire Baudelaire fortune, immediately set up an anonymous account with a prominent local bank.  A small portion went towards a down-payment for a decently-sized apartment in the downtown district. 

It had once been the Baudelaires' dream to live in a huge castle complete with a large inventing studio, library, and stone wall with guards meant to keep out Olaf and his troupe.  But the Baudelaires had grown up and in doing so they realized that no matter where you live, you are never truly safe and so it is better to find someplace that feels like home than someplace that is large and lonely and only provides the illusion of safety. 

After everything they had been through, anything big and luxurious felt wrong.  It was Klaus who admitted to wanting someplace small and comfortable and his sisters agreed with him.  And so the Baudelaires settled into a moderately-sized apartment with a small inventing studio, an open kitchen, three bedrooms, and books lining every possible surface.

It took nearly four months for the Baudelaires to make their new apartment feel like a home.  The books Klaus bought from open markets and used book-stores.  He would go out for milk or some other such thing and come home with a stack of 20 or so books, the milk completely forgotten.  Sunny was in charge of decorating.  Any wall space not occupied by bookshelves were covered in Sunny's colorful artwork, strung up by Violet using string and clothes pins.  Inventions of varying shapes and sizes took up any remaining space.  These were not the whimsical inventions that had populated the Baudelaire mansion, but practical devices that made the siblings' lives a little more convenient.  Violet, who spent most of her time locked away in her inventing studio, would occasionally go out in search for more inventing materials.  While it was no longer necessary, Violet found that she enjoyed the creativity of repurposing random items.  Besides, it gave her an excuse to leave the building. 

Four months and the Baudelaire apartment was finally starting to feel like a home.  But, there was still one thing missing that would secure the siblings' new life.

It was with this missing piece that Violet came rushing through the door in mid-June. It was the happiest that her siblings had seen her in months. 

"Sunny! Klaus!" Violet called into the apartment, "you'll never guess what I picked up today!"

Klaus, who had been reading in the cozy little nook he had made for himself, perked up and followed his older sister to the kitchen table.  "Did they finally finish reviewing our case?" He asked in disbelief.

Violet beamed at him as Sunny came over and climbed up on a chair to better see what was in Violet's hand. 

"They did!" said Violet as she laid down the documents she had been carrying for both her siblings to clearly see.  Klaus and Sunny looked in awe at the official seal that designated Violet as their legal guardian. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my wonderful readers, please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please remember to leave Kudos and Comments!!!
> 
> ~*~*~*~*~
> 
> Dr. Gustav Sebald was unavailable to leave a message here in the end notes and so here is one of my own: Rot3
> 
> \- E.V.


End file.
